


Shut Up and Drive

by dutchmoxie



Series: Prompts [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, street artist Clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4099081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchmoxie/pseuds/dutchmoxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were chased by the cops, got in my car and just yelled ‘Drive!' </p>
<p>Bellamy Blake has no idea who this girl with the paint-stained hands is, but he'll drive her somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shut Up and Drive

His timing had always been impeccable, but this was beyond ridiculous. He’d only just pulled up to the curb, trying to find a decent parking spot in this mad city, when the girl came running in his direction.

She was a wild and beautiful thing, long blonde hair waving in the wind and occasionally dragging through the paint stains on her overalls. Those overalls were… a fucking mess, just like her paint stained hands. Bright colors everywhere.

But that was not the most pressing concern about the girl: she was being pursued by two policemen, and while the girl was certainly not slow, she would get caught soon in the busy city traffic - this was not the right area to win a foot race.

Which explained why she was heading straight for him.

Bellamy Blake hesitated for a few seconds: he was raising his sister, so he couldn’t risk any criminal affiliations. Not that the girl seemed dangerous - maybe just an activist type, probably tagging something or other. But still, he needed to keep custody of Octavia. Fuck, he couldn’t just leave this girl stranded, right? She was somebody’s O.

But the girl made the decision for him.

She jumped into his beat-up clunker and slammed the door behind her.

“Drive!” she yelled, and he peeled off without a second thought.

Damn, this reminded him of his high school days - yeah, so maybe this was not the first time he was the driver of the getaway car. But that was usually just one of Wick’s bright ideas: tp-ing the qb’s house, taking the keg from a college party, a scavenger hunt that required a pair of cheerleader panties. They had some wild days.

But that was all in the past.

Responsibility. Ugh. He loved O to death, he really did, but sometimes he missed the stupid shenanigans of his not so responsible days.

Maybe that was why he still hadn’t kicked the girl out of his car.

“Thanks, by the way,” he felt her eyes on him as she broke the silence.

“Sure,” he didn’t know what else to say.

What else was there to say? He was just going to drop her off somewhere the cops wouldn’t find her and then they would both move on with their lives. This was not the movies, and they weren’t some kind of Bonnie and Clyde.

Good, because that ended badly for all involved.

“Aren’t you mister talkative?” the girl asked, still looking in his direction.

He was trying really hard to just focus on the traffic and not on the young woman in the passenger seat. It was best not to get too involved in her… stuff.

“Fine, I’ll talk,” the girl shrugged, appearing unfazed by his taciturn demeanor. “You’re doing me a real solid. I mean, I’m no Banksy - thank God - but people know when Oppenheimer’s put her mark on it.”

Oppenheimer? Sure, he knows that the man invented the atomic bomb, but why would a girl like this, all golden hair and blue eyes, choose such a name as her pseudonym? What did she know about warfare and tough choices?

She must have noticed the dumbfounded look on his face.

“He’s the guy who invented the atomic bomb,” she tried to explain.

“I know who Oppenheimer is,” he sighed, used to being thought of as stupid.

Really, he did not look high class, and therefore people assumed he was an idiot when they saw his car and his cheap clothes and his shit jobs. They didn’t know he read historical biographies for fun, after a long night of serving drinks to wasted sorority girls and their fratboy boyfriends. How could they know? Why would they care.

This girl did look. She studied him a little too closely for his liking. Maybe she saw the paper cuts on his fingers, or the dirt under his fingers that he could never quite get off. Yeah, quite the fucking contradiction to a pretty princess like her.

Bellamy stared at the busy city streets, happy for the distraction. Why the hell was this girl still looking at him? There was nothing to see here.

Shit. He was going to be late to work.

“Stop staring,” he told the girl sharply.

She just laughed - yes, actually laughed - and the sound was just tearing at the open wound. This girl. Who was she? What else did she want from him?

“I have to be at work in three minutes,” he tried to explain. “So either I kick you out somewhere along the way or you end up at the university library. Your choice.”

He didn’t wait for her response before pressing down hard on the gas as he just made the next light. Bellamy didn’t want to consider her at this point. He had better things to do.

“Library is fine,” the girl then replied. “I should probably attend classes at some point.”

Of course she was a college student. Of course she was doing whatever the fuck she wanted, not even bothering to show up for every damn class, like he would if he could. Heck, he could only audit so many classes and still work two jobs and raise his sister.

This girl probably had money - or her parents did, anyway. It was just so easy to wreck shit and act like a punk when there was always money to fall back on.

“I’ve never seen you there,” the girl continued. “At the library.”

And she would know that how? Because she actually visited it in between vandalizing public property and going shopping or whatever? Right now, in the paint stained clothes, she did not look like much of a scholar.

But then again, neither did he.

“I usually work in the history department,” he shrugged, only slightly embellishing on his job as a glorified secretary in his favorite department. “They needed me here today.”

Because he’s cheap and he doesn’t complain if he has to do stupid shit. It’s that simple. He just really needs the money. He always needs the money.

“History buff, huh?” the girl actually seems interested.

The way she emphasized the word buff made him a little more aware of her. Sure, she had been staring at him… And, she liked what she saw? Why did that even matter? What the hell was wrong with him? And her?

“Just your regular nerd,” he muttered, slowing down as they reached the campus.

That made her laugh. Who was this girl? This bratty princess with a smart mouth and a sly gaze, the girl who looked like a dream but acted like a common criminal while she talked like a genius. Who was she?

“Nothing regular about you,” she decided, and he made sure not to look at her.

Thank God they were almost at the parking lot, because this was just too weird. He didn’t even know her damn name, and if they could just get here his problems would be over. She would get out of the car and forget all about the history nerd who’d saved her ass.

It was easier that way. Better too.

“This is where I get off,” she grinned as he pulled into one of the few free spots. “Thanks, dude. I’ve always depended upon the kindness of strangers.”

With those last few words, spoken in a surprisingly perfect Southern accent, she threw open the passenger side door and disappeared into the crowds of students.

Bellamy shut down the engine and took a deep breath. Time to get to work.

Little did he know, that was not the last time he’d see the girl called Oppenheimer. 

**Author's Note:**

> There is a possibility for a sequel - or just for me to write more in this verse. That is, if people want me to....


End file.
